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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086404">Mother Knows Best</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher'>BlueEyedArcher</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Legend of Bat Reid! [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vampyr (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Animal Transformation, Bat Reid, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Jonathan is a sad little leech, Jonny is a Mama's boy, Mama Reid Knows Best, Mother-Son Relationship, a mother's love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:09:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24086404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyedArcher/pseuds/BlueEyedArcher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bat Reid meets Mama Reid and Jonathan is terrified that they won't survive the fallout.</p><p> </p><p>Jonathan turns into a bat and Emelyne accidentally finds him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Legend of Bat Reid! [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736608</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mother Knows Best</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you so much for the comments on the previous Bat Reid fics. I love this concept so much and the idea came up of what would Mama Reid think of what her baby boy has become? </p><p> Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was one of those rare days where Jonathan had been cooped up in his childhood home for the majority of the time. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, in fact, he decided to spend a couple days in the West End as a well needed break from the hustle and bustle of the hospital. He had informed Geoffrey of his absence in the meantime after they crossed paths in the East End. There had been a troublesome sewer beast scouring the area and had grown a taste for stray cats. It was hard not to make a joke about Dogs and Cats after they found the beast assaulting yet another unfortunate stray which surprisingly enough, had the balls to scratch at and hiss at the creature.</p><p> </p><p>The Guards rescued the furry damsel and dispatched the beast with a bit of help from their friendly neighborhood doctor, and parted ways quietly. The last thing Jonathan heard was him scolding the recruits about not letting cats into Priwen. They already had one animal to keep an eye on as is.</p><p> </p><p>Jonathan sighed as he carried the tea tray from the parlor into the kitchen, helping clean up after Avery assisted Emelyne up the stairs to her room. It had quickly become routine at this point. His mother would have a spot of tea with her medication mixed into it prescribed by another doctor (and later approved by Jonathan) then retire to her room to sleep. She didn’t sleep for long, she never really did these days. She would nap throughout the day and wander about at night with increased restlessness. Her fatigue never did fade, and neither did her imaginary companions. It was hard to stomach some days, sitting in a room while she talked to Mary or Aubrey as if they were still there. Still having a conversation that neither Avery or Jonathan could hear. </p><p> </p><p>She would gaze at them both expectantly, hoping they had been paying attention to whatever the phantom specters had been discussing with her. The frustration that glimmered there when neither of them could answer was fleeting. Her face would fall and she’d look so disappointed for a brief moment before sweeping it away with a fragile smile and some random optimistic thought.</p><p> </p><p>It was painful, but he was trying to be there for her. He wanted to at least do that much for his mother before the inevitable approached. It was all he could do these days.</p><p> </p><p>He sighed, set the tray on the counter and washed up the dishes. When he was finished, he headed upstairs to his room, only catching the tail end of Avery’s words as he excused himself for the evening. Jonathan smiled and bid him off for the night before he tucked inside. He had an idea he wanted to try, and given his current predicament, his only safe place to practice that idea was his own house. His bedroom was too small for his liking. He estimated he had at least three hours to play around to his heart’s content before his mother would wake and he would have to return to business as usual. Until then…</p><p> </p><p>He carefully removed his clothes and folded them up on the bed within fast and easy reach. When he was satisfied, he opened his bedroom door, peeked through the crack to ensure his mother was actually asleep. A quick glance with his ekon sight ensured that yes, she was lying down in her bed. Her heartbeat was slow and steady as she slept. Pleased that all the environmental factors were in the right place, he pulled on that familiar cloak of shadows that twisted and enveloped his body.</p><p> </p><p>It never ceased to thrill him everytime he took flight. The disorientation had faded, and the discomfort that accompanied all of his new abilities had passed like it always did. He was quickly growing accustomed to his new vision though echo location was still something he was figuring out. Because of that, he occasionally ran into walls and windows without noticing. Especially when he was using his ekon sight, he tended to get easily confused and turned around.</p><p> </p><p>Today he did a leisurely lap around the house, exploring the halls and the parlor, creeping into the kitchen where he accidentally clipped a pan with his wing and sent them all clanging loudly into one another. He cringed inwardly and held his breath, angling himself to listen and peek upstairs. His mother remained where she was, still on her bed. To his relief, he continued his exploration. He took a break on the stand by the front door, catching his breath as he rested his wings then made his way up the stairs once more to flutter around near the windows and eventually latched onto the curtain.</p><p> </p><p>It took a few tries before he found a good vantage point to cling to. His frustration came when he realized certain materials simply weren’t bat friendly which was a crying shame since he really did enjoy using this new ability to eavesdrop and pick up delicious morsels of gossip. Which often involved him clinging to strange materials with his claws while he listened in. It might not be the most polite thing he’s ever done, but he’s certainly done far worse over the years that he could ease his conscience with the security that he was only listening in, he wasn’t spreading any of the information he picked up. Except with Geoffrey on occasion, but Geoffrey isn’t the gossip hound Reid was and therefore wasn’t one to kiss and tell.</p><p> </p><p>“Aubrey?” The brittle voice called out, sounding impossibly loud to Jonathan’s sensitive ears as panic seized him. He clambered around on the curtains to get a better glimpse at the source of the voice. The dread that seeped into his tiny fragile bones was nearly suffocating when his mother walked around the corner into the hallway. Jonathan’s panic was palpable as he tried to figure a way around the situation. He couldn’t risk her seeing him up here, he could already imagine her horror when she sees him flapping around. If he was lucky, he’ll get struck with a broom a few times. If not, he feared he may just be the death of his own mother. Cursing himself for his stupidity, he tried to shimmy slowly across the curtains until he could line up with the hallway. If he could make the straight shot to his bedroom, he could slip inside and everything will be well.</p><p> </p><p>With his plan laid out, he made the painfully slow attempt to maneuver himself while he waited for his mother to turn around. Once her back was to him, he could swoop through with little trouble. It felt agonizingly long while he hung there, his wings ached from his anxious shuffling. He was certain he was wearing a hole into the curtain and would ruin the fabric before his opening revealed itself.</p><p> </p><p>His mother turned away to head back towards her own room, giving him the chance. He let go of the curtain and let his body dive down in a quick motion, his wings straightened out catching the air as he glided for the bedroom door. He kept his eyes on her heartbeat using his ekon sense, shifting back in time to run straight into the closed door. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh no! No! No! No! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>To his absolute horror, she shut his door. He panicked, searching for an open window, a crack or crevice, or even a shadow to hide into. But it was too late.</p><p> </p><p>“Avery? Is that you?” She heard the sound of his body hitting, the scattered flap of his wings drawing a puzzled look on her weathered features. Her pale blue eyes widened as a shrill scream filled the air the moment their eyes locked.</p><p> </p><p>He had nowhere to run to. He was trapped. And her screams were so loud. He shrieked back in fear, only furthering his mother’s fear. Fear that he could <em> sense. </em> He could hear the quickened pace of her old heart straining. Could see the way her chest heaved in gulps of air. She raised her hands in self-defense and cried out. “Jonathan! Jonathan help! Help me!”</p><p> </p><p>He panicked. That’s the only way he could describe it. He relinquished his hold on the shadows with so much force, his body unraveled in a wisp of dark vapor. His mother’s eyes were terrified, her lips parted in another scream as he wrapped his arms around her to console her.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother!” He called before he could even think about the repercussions of the action. She stilled in his arms, her pulse racing impossibly loud even now.</p><p> </p><p>“Jonathan?” Her voice sounded so fragile, so broken and brittle.</p><p> </p><p>The sudden heavy realization struck him, as he stood there before his mother with fangs so sharp and eyes so bright. The deathly pallor that had been bathed in darkness and fur. He couldn’t hide what he was anymore. He couldn’t lie to her and make up some farfetched tale. He certainly couldn’t bring himself to mesmerize her, not after what Mary had done. He was petrified. Her withered fingers gripped his shoulders, caught between pushing away and holding on to him for support.</p><p> </p><p>“Mother I-” He started, unable to look her in the eyes. What was he to say? That the baby boy she had raised and loved was a monster?  He was a literal beast, with fangs and claws that could rip apart a human body faster and more efficiently than a scalpel. That his obsession with blood ran beyond his professional needs and was the only thing he could survive on now. The prodigal son, reduced to eating rats in the streets and hiding in abandoned houses to avoid the sunlight.</p><p> </p><p>He felt the tears burning in his eyes. He would have to leave. To say his final disastrous goodbye to the only family he had left. He started to pull away when her fingers curled into his shoulders, pulling him back.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re shaking my darling boy.” Her voice was sickly sweet, so soft in his ear as she drew him closer. Her arms made a valiant effort to snake around his broader taller frame, combing her fingers through his hair in gentle strokes. “Jonathan, it’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mother?” He asked, his own voice sounded strange to his ears, watered down and unsteady. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay my boy.” She reassured, the fear that had filled his nostrils like a pungent fume had faded and dispersed. Her excited pulse was less dire, her old heart had settled its thunderous sound in her rib cage as she breathed easily, restoring her composure with all the skill only a mother could have.</p><p> </p><p>He drew away now, just enough to meet her eyes. She sucked in a sharp breath when she met his bloodshot blue eyes. Dark crimson tears trailed down his cheeks as he held onto her, with trembling hands and a desperate hope that she wouldn’t turn him away. In that moment, he was a frightened little boy all over again, holding onto her skirts as he cried.</p><p> </p><p>His legs felt weak but her smile was genuine as she gently wiped the tears away, undeterred by their strangeness. “My poor sweet little Jonathan.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” He bit off, a sudden rush of emotion overwhelming his fragile attempts to stem it.</p><p> </p><p>“What could you possibly be apologizing for? Oh, Jonny, don’t cry.” She shushed him and pulled him closer. He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and held onto her. For the first time since he lost his sister, Jonathan sobbed without a care for who saw it. Held firmly in his mother’s arms as she hummed softly in his ear and carded her fingers through his hair and rubbed small circles across his shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>It took awhile for him to calm down, and he realized in his upset state, had ruined his mother’s dress. She dismissed the concern and urged him to go get cleaned up and meet her down in the parlor so they could talk.</p><p> </p><p>It was strange, Jonathan realized as he buttoned up his shirt after wiping all the blood away from his face. His fingers stumbled over the buttons as they still trembled. He was quite shaken up by the entire experience, he would admit. His mother had been so calm so quickly it was hard to imagine what was going through her mind. Did she realize the magnitude of what he had just done, or was her mind still so broken that she was twisting truth into fairytales? He supposed there was only one way to find out.</p><p> </p><p>He was ashamed of the fact he stood at the top of the stairs in dreaded apprehension. The thought of sneaking out the back and disappearing had crossed his mind several times. Maybe she will dismiss it as a bizarre dream and everything will be well again. Maybe she’ll forget quickly and he can go back to how things were. Maybe….maybe he was being a fool overall.</p><p> </p><p>He could hear her singing softly to herself downstairs. He could smell the tea she was brewing in the kitchen and could see her casually drifting from one part of the kitchen to the other as if in a phantom dance with an unseen partner. </p><p> </p><p>He forced himself to descend the stairs one step at a time. He had reached the bottom as she called his name. “Jonathan, would you mind carrying the tray into the parlor for me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes mother.” He offered a weak smile in her direction when he entered. She tilted her head sympathetically as she approached, catching his chin to press a kiss to his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“My sweet handsome boy.” She chimed as she passed.</p><p> </p><p>Jonathan was confused but followed right behind with the tea tray in hand. They settled into the usual spots. He made to sit in the armchair adjacent to her but she beckoned him over to the sofa to sit right by her side. Her hands were busy laying a blanket out over her lap while he shifted awkwardly by her side, a futile attempt to get comfortable and still his nervousness.</p><p> </p><p>“You wanted to speak with me, mother?” He finally asked when the silence was dragging on for far too long.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes my dear boy.” She hummed, turning to address him as her tiny wrinkled hands reached for his. Even with her poor circulation, they were still warmer in comparison to Jonathan’s. He winced inwardly at the thought. He tore his gaze away from her hands and forced himself to meet her eyes. The fear must have been obvious in his own as she smiled, a tender reassuring smile that she always gave when he had made a mistake as a boy. “Don’t be upset, Jonny. You’re alright.” She cooed.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry, mother. This is just so <em> sudden. </em>” He started. “I wanted to tell you. I was so afraid of what you might think of me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t think any less of you, my child. You will always be my sweet baby boy.” She rested a hand against his arm with the sweetest smile. Her knuckles brushed against his cheek when those bloodshot hues started to darken. “Shhh.” She hushed. “You’ll ruin your shirt.”</p><p> </p><p>He let out a laugh at that and rubbed his palms against his eyes to stop the tears from flowing and blurring his vision once more. He gave a shuddering breath and wrung his hands together anxiously. “So you’re not….<em> afraid </em>of me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I will admit, it was startling at first.” She spoke up, a tiny smile curled at the corner of her lips as she sighed. It was wistful. A look of yearning in her eyes as she reminisced on some distant memory. “You looked so scared, Jonny.”</p><p> </p><p>“I was.” He admitted quietly. “I’ve been for a long time.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Jonathan.” Her voice faded as she reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder, an invitation. He lingered on it, but eventually he gave into the need for comfort. To feel his mother’s love again. To know she was still there for him, even after all that’s happened to him. This time he <em> did not </em>cry all over her. It was a close call though.</p><p> </p><p>They talked for a long time. They decided to settle on referring to his affliction as an illness, for both of their long term comfort and for the rare case where she may accidentally bring it up in the company of others. He only told her the important parts, like the fact he <em> contracted </em>it when he returned home from the war. He left out the details, both gorey and long. He summed up some of what he could do and ignored the fact he needed blood to survive. He treated it as simply as one would discuss the symptoms of a cold. It made it easier for his conscience.</p><p> </p><p>His mother, the lovely and brilliant woman she was, listened intently as she sipped her tea and smiled. Occasionally asking questions along the way. The majority of them involved his <em> other form. </em> </p><p> </p><p>Eventually she did ask if he could turn into it again so she could get a better look at him. He was mildly uncomfortable with the request but gave in after some minor mental lecturing. If she got used to seeing him like that, then she was less likely to be startled again in the future. And maybe less likely to be struck with a broom.</p><p> </p><p>She was in awe of his transformation as he pulled the shadows around himself and fluttered in place. She patted the blanket in her lap, beckoning him closer so she could get a better view.</p><p> </p><p>“You are rather cute like this, Jonathan.” She spoke softly, nearly a whisper as she fretted over his sensitive hearing. She cupped him gently in her palms, waiting for him to get comfortable before picking him up. “Though, I will admit, not as cute as when you were a baby. You had the sweetest little toesy woesies. And the most adorable giggle. And your chubby little cheeks. You squealed with joy. My happy little baby boy.” She giggled girlishly and stroked a finger down the length of his back. Jonathan chirped up at his mother as she continued to coo and reminisce about his days as a chunky playful laughing baby and how much he clung to her all the time and adored being held every minute.</p><p> </p><p>Jonathan was just relieved he couldn’t blush even as a bat. His embarrassment was trumped only by the immense relief that washed over him that his mother accepted who he was no matter what shape he took or how slow his heart beat. A mother’s love truly knows no bounds. </p>
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